"Playing with our hopes"

I'm at war with myself,
fighting like an orc against and elf.
My instincts are contaminated,
I feel like my soul is isolated;
and I can't help but wonder
if it's because of all this hatred.

Like a thousand devils
whispering into my ears,
my spirit is falling into tears.
My faith is fading like the smoke of a cigar
and the light that guided me
now seems so far.

Two hammers at the end of my arms,
A battle cry that freezes
as if using a charm,
and a storming reaction that never falls late.
Like a war machine I have become
but none of that matter for what is to come.

Curves of temptation,
sweet fruit of sins.
Darkness and evil painted on screens.
Marks of emptiness and falls with no end,
dark and cold the hearts of all men.

Hatred and confusion
used like a belt and a whip.
We all are lambs but our shepherd is only a kid,
while the wolf bites us holding us down.
What can I do if not laught like a clown?
Only God can let those lambs become lions.
Only men who can lead
are allowed into Zion.

I'm a mess, a voodoo doll.
With nails pinned to my soul.
And a rat down my throat
that speaks in languages like the goat.
I can't shake it, I can't break it.
But I'll try, say good bye.
"Dream it on" says my song.
And while this man is awake
in the valley of the fake,
I will keep up the rythm
and give fight to the demons.
I will face your facade,
even going crazy or mad
Hold your breath and punch out,
cause our lights will go out.

You up there... can you hear me now?
GOOD!